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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Gothic · #582532
A tale of murder and insanity
         It was warm out yet I did not feel it. My body was covered in goosebumps as I walked down the quickly diminishing path. The trees arched over my head and seemed to be moving in on me. I shivered again and quickened my pace, entering the woods.

         I no longer felt the cold yet the warmth wasn't there either. The branches from the wood created a doorway, the roots parting to let me in. My eyes were clouded with tears; I could barely see. But why? I don't remember. But wait; now I do.

         It had been late at night, wait, was that tonight? I had just come home. From where? I do not know. My home was happy. A peaceful place to live and love. Love? Did I love there? I must have. I opened the door to my so-called wonderful home and stepped inside. The air was warm; was it warm now? Various scents filled the air. I remember the pictures on the wall. Had they been of me? Wait, yes they were. They showed me happy, surrounded by those I'd loved. Loved? Were those I had loved inside this home? They must be. Did I have a lover? It appeared I did. Most pictures contained the two of us, arm in arm with smiles on our faces. We must have been happy. I walked towards where he was. He? Ah, that must mean I am a female then? I believe so. My lover, he was in a room, our room, not far away. Inside the room there was a bed and inside the bed must be him. I opened the door and inside I hear noises. Noises that were almost familiar. I must have heard them before. Strange, I never heard them this way. I see the bed and I see my lover. Yet, something else is there also. Wait, someone else is there. They see me and cover themselves. It is a woman with my lover. Why? My lover has a strange look in his eyes. Why is this? Is he ashamed? He speaks, yet the words mean nothing. His voice cracks. I do not understand. I am filled with emotion. A certain emotion. I do believe that it is sadness, but only for a moment. It is soon overwhelmed by anger and hatred. But then what? I cannot seem to remember what happens next.

         Was it real? Was it a dream? My mind cannot seem to comprehend it. My mind is...numb. I barely feel anything. I am now seated at the base of an oak tree. Tears stream down my face, yet I do not know why. I am so confused. I notice something on my hands. Its is bright red and liquid. I suddenly feel disgusting. I've done something wrong, terribly wrong. My hands are dirty. The red liquid coats my hands and seeps into my skin. It is poison! The world wants me dead! Dead because of my hideous deed. The poison seeps into my pores, absorbs into my skin, entering my veins, flowing with my blood. My body will die if I do not rid myself of this poison. There is only one way to save myself. There is a knife in my hand, was it there before? There is poison there too. I wipe it off. I prepare myself and pull it across my wrist. The poison flows out, onto the ground, landing in a puddle. It runs down my arm like a river. I feel pure as it leaves me and the world turns beautiful colors. I lean back on the oak tree, which supports me. Its branches bending over me in a protective embrace. The poison flows slower now and has left my system. I simply feel bliss as the world disappears from around me. There is no more poison.... It’s all gone, I'm free.

         *The detective bent over the cold white body examining the wound. There is a deep slice into her wrist, which proved fatal. She lost most of her blood in a time span of about five minutes. It was a gruesome death, inflicted by the knife next to the body. In a word, suicide. The detective sighed as he filled out the report:

Name: Clare Smith
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Date of Birth: 9/21/80
Occupation: Student
Medical History: Diagnosed with depression at age 14. Became bulimic at age 17.
Cause of Death: Self inflicted wound to the right wrist with pocketknife.
Other information: Came home at around eight o'clock PM on the night of August 15, 2002. Found her boyfriend engaging in sexual activities with another women. Went slightly insane and killed both with a pocketknife. She was found on the morning of August 16, dead by the foot of a large oak tree in the woods just behind her house.
© Copyright 2002 Little Lady Lizzy Girl (crimsontears at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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